Now and Forever
by mimithenumberon
Summary: Based on Dracula (1992)! "The Count watched Jonathan struggle with this for a second, loving the way his eyes were a mixture of both fear and lust. How pretty they looked, so dark and dilated..." Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M! (YoungDracula/Jonathan) I hope you guys like it and if u can please leave a review! XD Thank you in advance and ENJOY!


**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, Vampirism (well, Dracula is a vampire...) **

**This was a request by TicklesneezerMMPR so have at it dear! I hope you like it (and that applies to all the readers! X3) This is based on Bram's Stoker's Dracula the 1992 film (the one with Keanu Reeves as Jonathan Harker) It takes placed during the shaving scene but instead of leaving the room, Dracula changes to his younger self and uses his green mist (the one which seems to send women going crazy) on Jonathan. Okay, that's all the spoilers u're getting out of me! XD **

**I hope you all like it and if u can, please do review. You'd be surprised how much of an impact a few simple words could have. X3 ENJOY! **

**Also, I do NOT own Dracula or any of the characters! **

_**Now and Forever **_

The fire flickered around Jonathan Harker, each small flame shuddering as if in fear whenever he made the slightest of moves. He spied them from the corner of his eye for a second before he re-directed his attentive gaze to his current task. He moved the sharp razor across the skin of his neck with steady hands, the deadly edge gleaming with the reflected light illuminating the dark chamber from dozens of ivory candles. He was silently grateful for the light. He'd never been a superstitious fellow, and certainly not an easily scared one either, but something about the foreign lands of Romania unnerved him.

He cast his mind back to the village girl pressing the silver cross into his palm, the meaning of her alien tongue lost to his English ear. But he understood the look in her wide eyes. He saw the fear lurching in the dark depths as clearly as daylight though it had been the dead of night. In fact, now that he was traveling down the path of memories, he remembered many strange things. The rolling mists so thick he could barely see his own two hands raised in front of his face and as menacing as if they had a will of their own. He could almost believe they were ghosts reaching for him with bony fingers ready to swallow him whole.

_Don't be silly Jonathan. What would Mina say if she could see you now? _But his self-reproaching only sent his mind down another memory lane. He remembered the wolves. Oh, how clearly he was able to recall their golden eyes to mind, eyes that shone in the dark and seemed to burn him. And the way their tongues licked over their fangs, fangs designed by nature to tear and kill, as if already able to taste his warm flesh. But though they were so close to him and they could no doubt sniff his fear, they didn't leap to attack. It was almost as if something or someone had forbidden them to touch him. But that was ridiculous. What creature could possibly have power over such wild beasts?

No, he was being irrational and it wasn't like him. He shook his shoulders as he whipped the razor on a nearby cloth and threw a frugal glance around the vacant room. Normally he could have found the castle an amazing structure, full of history and rich tales, but that night he found it dark and cold. The word haunted sprang to mind but he pushed it down, like his groundless fears. Defiantly, he turned his gaze back to the mirror, ignoring the flicker of fear meeting him from his own reflection.

Suddenly he jumped, feeling the weight of a hand on his left shoulder, but when he looked there he found nothing other than his own clothes and the chilling night air. He turned around in alarm, refusing to believe his mind was so easy to conjure phantoms which felt so heart-galloping real, but there was nobody standing behind him. He could feel his heart in his mouth but, like before, he pushed it back down while his eyes stopped at the door separating his designated sleeping chambers from the rest of the castle. He could have sworn he closed it before he began shaving but the heavy set wood lay wide ajar and Count Dracula simply stood there with a heavy tome opened wide in his skeletal hands, as white as the Transylvanian mist itself descending from the Carpathian Mountains.

The Count's long red robes trailed to his feet and wound behind him like a giant snake made out of the finest satin. Jonathan's fingers went to his neck, touching the small cut he'd made in his hastiness to turn around and couldn't help noticing the red of his blood was just a shade darker than the red of the Count's garments. How hadn't he heard the older man approach? Come to think of it, every time the Count moved he seemed to float. His steps never seemed to make the slightest noise and it was unnerving to say the least... Jonathan watched the master of the castle move to his bed and place the book down with such care as if the smallest gesture could make it crumble to dust. It certainly looked like an ancient volume... Just as the Count himself. It was something Jonathan had noticed the first time he saw the man, though he ignored the voice inside his mind which screamed at him to run. How ridiculous! How could this man be ancient?! He was certainly old and possibly sickly, judging by his parchment white skin, but he was only a man for goodness' sake!

'I didn't hear you come in.' Jonathan attempted a small smile but his heart was still racing wildly and the gesture failed to hide the flicker still living in his eyes. He quickly lowered them before the Count could see how foolishly he was behaving.

Dracula turned towards him, as if noticing his presence for the first time, and began making his was closer, his steps as silent as the steps of death itself. The door behind him creaked as it swung shut of its own accord. Jonathan couldn't help throwing an uneasy glance at it. For some inexplicable reason he wished the door had remained ajar. With its closing he felt like his last escape route had been cut off but escape from what? He couldn't say.

'Take care how you cut yourself.' Jonathan moved his eyes back to the Count whose hand was outstretched as if eager to touch his throat. He eyed the long nails, looking more like the claws of a hunter than those of a man, and his hand automatically moved to the cut still expelling a few drops of poppy red blood. 'It is...more dangerous than anything.' Jonathan turned back to the mirror, inspecting the injury closer. It hardly seemed life threatening... He glanced at the Count's reflection over his shoulder but before he could open his mouth to reassure the old man of his heath, he heard a growl and the glass broke. He looked at the spider web of cracks with uncomprehending eyes before turning to glance at the Count, feeling his fingertips on his shoulder.

'Oh...A foul bauble of man's...vanity. Perhaps...you should grow a beard.' As he spoke in that strange accent, which Jonathan was still struggling to decipher sometimes, the Count reached with one hand and took the razor from his distracted fingers. While he was left wondering at the Count's suggestion, for a second seeing himself with a long beard and hating even the mental image of it, he missed seeing Dracula flick his tongue out and lick his blood of the razor edge. He also missed the darkening of his irises and the look of pure pleasure which crossed his face as if his blood was the most aromatic thing he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting... He missed it all and when he glanced over his shoulder again, Dracula was once more there standing far too close to him for his liking as if the idea of personal space hadn't even crossed his mind.

'The letters I requested. I shall read them.' Jonathan glanced at the outstretched hand for a long second, trying to make sense of the spoken words before realization finally struck. He glanced at the count, wondering what could he possibly hope to learn from reading the letters, but didn't argue as he handed them over. He watched the strange Count leaf through them with what could only be described as eagerness before a small smile stretched his lips and he straightened up again. 'Good.' It was all he said before hiding them inside his robe and moving to stand behind Jonathan's other side.

The English man heard the scraping of the razor against the metal bowl of water while he felt the Count's free hand across his cheek and jaw, lifting his head up and exposing his throat. He drew in a quick breath when the cold metal pressed against his neck and the blade resumed its interrupted work. A stray thought manifested across Jonathan's mind and his heart began racing against before he could catch it. How easily the Count could kill him in that second...But why would he do such a thing? He didn't know how or why, but Jonathan knew there was something terribly wrong with the man who had a blade pressed against his skin, carefully cutting away the dark stubble beginning to grow along his skin. Maybe it was an instinct or some sort of natural defence mechanism, but he knew the man dressed from head to toe in red was a hunter just as he knew he was the pray. Maybe that's how the rabbit felt before the wolf's jaws snapped around its neck...

'Should you leave these rooms...You will not, by any chance, go to sleep in any other parts of the castle. It is old...and has many bad memories.' Jonathan swallowed drily, the sound of Dracula's thick accent trickling into his ear like honey. Sickly sweet.

'I'm sure I understand.' Jonathan assumed the Count was referring to some tale of his ancestors, back in a time of war or plague or some other such misfortune. Ah, but didn't they all. Dracula's smile curved the corners of his lips, his eyes drinking the young human in, the taste of his hot blood still fresh on his tongue.

He moved the blade to the bottom of Jonathan's throat and his eyes followed the reflecting surface only to fall on the silver cross secured around the man's neck. Dracula suffered a fleeting second of panic where he remembered his beginning and the death of his beloved. The memory was so powerful he leaped backwards from the religious object as if burned and hissed with such ferocity Jonathan's fear was plain to see on his face. His hand gripped the cross as if he understood, on some intuitive level, that this was the only thing offering any illusion of safety.

'Do not put your faith in such...trinkets of deceit. We are in Transylvania and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways.' Jonathan felt the window ledge pressing against the back of his thigh and he desperately wished to crawl out the window just to put more distance between himself and the Count. The way his eyes glared at the cross was all the proof he need to know the man really was an unholy creature of sorts. After all, a good man wouldn't be so God fearing...Only a demon ran away from the holy cross. 'And to you, there shall be many strange things.' As if to echo the Count's words a swarm of bats fluttered somewhere nearby, though Jonathan dared not take his eyes off Dracula even for a second. He only hoped the winged rodents were outside the castle walls even if a little voice inside him whispered otherwise.

'I've seen many strange things already!' He didn't know where this sudden anger was streaming from but he felt it bubble inside his chest like a witch's brew. Or maybe what he felt was his own terror which he was so desperately trying to mask under a veil of anger...It was hard to tell. 'Bloody wolves chasing me through some blue inferno!' He turned and looked outside the window as if expecting to find the beasts there, just waiting to tear out his jugular, but there were no wolves on the ground below. Just that same mysterious fog which, with the aid of the moon's spearing light, seemed to give the surrounding a cold blue hue. It wasn't natural. It couldn't be natural! He glared at it as if willing it to yield answers to his many questions but his heart seemed to stop when the shadows of abnormally large wolves moved under his line of vision. Their howls were as clear as if they were standing right beside him in the room.

'Ah...Listen to them.' Jonathan's frame whipped around and he froze. A deep laugh bounced off the walls of the castle though Jonathan was feeling anything but amusement. The man standing in front of him was a stranger. He had long, dark hair cascading down his broad shoulders and equally dark eyes, much like the Count had. But this man was many years younger, with moon-kissed skin and the powerful build of a warrior. Where was Dracula?! 'The children of the night. What sweet music they make.' The comment sparked something in Jonathan and he re-found his voice, though it was much weaker. The last flutter of a dying bird.

'Music?! Those animals?!' He had to glance back once more, as if afraid the beasts will take offence and escalade the steep walls of the castle just to get at him, momentarily forgetting about the beast there in the room with him, aiming for the same thing.

'You should never turn your back on a predator. It gives them an opportunity to strike.' The young stranger's voice was even deeper than the Counts and the Romanian accent made it sound like an audible caress. Jonathan couldn't take his eyes of the man and for the moment he forgot his fear, drawn in by the velvety voice and the uncanny good looks. He noticed the mist far too late. He jumped back so suddenly, forgetting the stone ledge behind him, and he winced at the bruising pain. It rattled him out of his daze and he threw wide-eyed glances at the seemingly living fog. But how could mist be inside the castle?! And how could it be such a striking green, the colour of jade? He knew he had to avoid it at all costs but he was already cornered on all sides with nowhere to go. He pictured diving out the window again but he waved the preposterous though away. The fall would kill him, though he found himself wondering if maybe that would be a preferable outcome. He didn't know what the mist would do to him but he was very much afraid of it. More afraid than he'd ever been in all his life.

'Count! Where are you?! Please help me!' But his host didn't answer nor did he suddenly re-appear from thin air. When Jonathan looked around for help all he saw was the handsome stranger grinning at him, his teeth as white as fresh snow. The English man noticed the red, satin garments draped over the man's body and he knew there was something significant about that but his thoughts were far too numbed by his own paralyzing fear to make sense of it. The fog wound towards him like a great serpent, slithering slowly as if relishing the way Jonathan was further and further reduced to a horrified mess.

And then it reached him and he forgot his need to escape. Jonathan's eyes stopped their frantic searching and his eyelids were as heavy as lead all of a sudden. His lungs sucked in a sharp gasp and his fingers dug into the edge of the windowsill, feeling the stone scrape against his skin but relishing in the sensation. His senses seemed to be ten times sharper than usual and his teeth scraped against his lower lip. The mist climbed up his leg and across his chest, brushing his flesh so personally Jonathan could almost believe physical hands were touching him. He wanted to tear his clothes away, feeling stifled under their suddenly suffocating heat. Why was he feeling so...wanton? What was driving his thoughts down that inappropriate road?...

He managed, with some difficulty, to open his eyes and was shocked to find the dark haired man standing barely a foot away from him. His mouth went dry and he swallowed audibly. He couldn't believe what he was thinking and he wanted to scream at his own shameful desires. He was a Christian man! How could he even entertain such fantasies?! As if reading his mind as clearly as an open book, the man smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly and making him all the more alluring. His arm reached for Jonathan and the human somehow found the strength to slap it away.

'Don't touch me fiend! What have you done to me?!...' Damn! Even his voice sounded weak. It was low and breathy just like after a great physical exertion.

'I have done nothing Mr Harker. I simply brought to the surface desires you already had, admittedly more powerfully, but they are not new to you. I never understood why humans were so desperate to hide and supresses their natural urges. How can they call themselves free if they willingly turn their own bodies and minds into prisons? What entertaining creatures you all are...'

'So I was right. You aren't human. Who, _WHAT _are you?!' Jonathan was still leaning against the ledge, certain that should he try to stand his legs would crumble under his weight.

'Oh but you know me. I am the lord of this castle of course, Count Dracula.' The Count watched Jonathan struggle with this for a second, loving the way his eyes were a mixture of both fear and lust. How pretty they looked, so dark and dilated...' As for your other question, you wouldn't understand even if I told you. You're nothing but a fragile human and as a rule your kind prefers blissful ignorance.' He reached for the human again and this time Jonathan didn't have the strength to push him away. The long fingers moved down the side of his throat, at the same time burning it and freezing it, to the neckline of his shirt. A look of displeasure crossed his expression when he touched the silver chain and with a vicious snarl he yanked the cross away. He looked at it, dangling from the chain held firmly in his clenched fist, before flinging it across the room in disgust.

Jonathan's weary eyes followed the cross, feeling naked without it, and wished he had the willpower to get it back but he was once more rooted to the spot. He could feel the Count's hungry gaze on his skin and he wondered how he hadn't combusted into flames yet. The hand resumed its exploring and easily tore apart every button in its descend, pushing the shirt apart to reveal Jonathan's heaving chest. He hated the way his body shuddered expectantly when Dracula rewarded him with the slightest of touches but he couldn't control it. It was as if he was under a spell, hypnotised. Maybe that was it exactly! How else could he explain the way he moaned softly when the Count's sharp nails raked over his stomach and abdomen?

'My, you certainly are an eager one.' Dracula's grin revealed a pair of inhumanly long canines which had Jonathan thinking of the savage wolves with yellow eyes. But the predator in front of him had red eyes, blood red eyes. Jonathan tried to muster up the courage to do something, anything, but when he opened his mouth to scream an entirely different noise drifted past the defence of his lips. Dracula's hands were pushing the shirt, as well as the amber vest, down his arms and the chill of the room settled over him like a second skin. It was actually welcomed since he felt like he was burning from the inside out, his blood boring inside his veins as if his heart had suddenly transformed into a furnace.

In hindsight, that was probably the point where he gave up the struggle. That was the moment when Jonathan realized he didn't really want to fight. That small voice inside him grew louder and whispered promises of adventures so much more exciting than the boring life of a solicitor in London. It drowned out the voice of reason and the memory of Mina. It drowned out the fear and stripped away his morality. All that was left was him, the Count and their desires.

Dracula senses the change and his bloody eyes studied the boy's face, because compared to his many years Jonathan was nothing but a child. He studied the flushed face and invitingly parted lips and he felt something stir inside him, something which had been dormant for so long he'd forgotten he was capable of feeling it. He'd only intended to feast on the human and then erase his memory, just so he could do the same again the next day. Maybe he'd turn him into his new servant since it was troublesome not being able to walk in daylight but now he felt an urgent need to feast on carnal pleasure as well. He wanted to see Jonathan's face contorted in pleasure so intense it was painful. He wanted to reduce this wilful man to nothing and make him forget his very name, lost in oceans of ecstasy. It had been centuries since he'd felt such a strong desire to take someone else. He hadn't felt so strongly about his own Brides... He wasn't naive enough to call it love but it was certainly some relative of it, some primal sibling.

Dracula locked their lips together and Jonathan felt the spell turning his limbs to stone break. His fingers dug into the Count's upper back, clawing at the vintage cloth. He didn't want to feel satin but something even finer. He opened his mouth obediently when a prying tongue pushed against his lips and didn't bother restraining his moans when he felt it rub against his own. It was clear the other man knew what he was doing... It made Jonathan re-evaluate his skill as a lover, not that he had a lot of that under his belt. He'd been taught unnecessary carnal pleasure was wrong and condemned by the highest power but how could something which felt so good be so evil? But then again, Lucifer had been an angel before he became the devil.

Dracula decided to give into Jonathan's desire, just this once. The human gasped when he felt the material under his fingers trickle through them like water and he was finally able to touch the firm back now exposed. The vampire moved closer to his prey, stepping in between his parted legs, close enough for their chests to touch. It had been a few months since his last human lover and he relished in the natural heat which radiated from a living body. Jonathan pulsed with life and it was something which he always craved knowing he could never have it again, but for a short while he could borrow another's and delve in it. He especially loved the strength of Jonathan's vitality and the way it rushed at his touch. It was incredibly empowering, knowing he had this sort of effect on another, even if they were just human.

He ran his tongue over the arched throat, his fangs scraping the skin but refraining from breaking it...yet. He planned to enjoy this game a little further before he'd sate his thirst. He forced Jonathan onto the ledge and the human's legs crossed around his waist, looking for the support. Dracula began rocking his hips, causing friction between their excited bodies as his lips moved along the muscular fibres intertwined along the other man's shoulder. There was something even more rewarding in taking control of a man, rather than a woman. Maybe it was their superior physique or their stronger will... Jonathan had managed to fight back a little after all, something that had never happened before with any of his female victims. Breaking him down was all the more fun because of it, much like a cat toyed with a mouse before eating it.

Suddenly Dracula pushed Jonathan back and he felt his back press against the cold glass of the closed window. He hissed and while he was distracted the Count's hands were not idle. Before he could wrap his head around it, Jonathan found himself stark naked and he reflexively tried to close his legs and hide his modesty but the older creature would have none of that. His powerful fingers dug into the warm thighs and held them firmly apart. Jonathan felt his face burn brighter and he refused to meet the Count's eyes, choosing instead to press his cheek against the cool glass. And then his head snapped around so fast there was an audible protesting crack from his neck. Dracula's palm was firmly wrapped around his erection and the contrast between cold and hot was maddening by itself. When the torturous hand began to move as well it was almost too much and Jonathan's needy moans began to once more fill the chamber.

Dracula decided to take a moment and simply study the man who awoke such familiar yet alien sensation inside his dead heart while his body worked independently to give blissful pleasure. He was a creature capable of bestowing both heaven and hell on those fortunate or unfortunate enough to cross his path. Jonathan was in luck... He felt arousal stream hot and strong through his body like it hadn't in, he forgot how long.

Jonathan was too far gone the path of pleasure to notice the finger pressing against his virgin entrance but he meowed and his body jerked away when that same finger began pushing past the defence of the tight ring of muscles. He squirmed to get away but there was nowhere to go and Dracula's arms held him firmly in place. Taking pity on him, the vampire sped up the movements of his palm, still holding the human's sensitive organ within its grasp, and that seemed to pacify Jonathan. He was so lost and confused...Should he run away from the strange pain blooming with the push of the Count's finger or should he embrace the overwhelming pleasure consuming him like wild fire? Which one was he supposed to concentrate on?

'You have not done this before. Here is some advice, if you choose to listen. Give in. Do not fight it and you will soon find why so many of your kind choose to join in this act even if it is a sin.' Dracula had a knowing smile playing on his lips and Jonathan concentrated on that for a moment, still bewildered at how handsome the man was when he grinned that devilish grin. Then the finger suddenly thrust inside him to its knuckle and his entire body went taunt, every muscle tensing simultaneously. The vampire's words played in his mind and he tried to follow his advice but no matter how much he struggled to simply breathe, his body stubbornly refused to accept the intrusion. 'Then again, some learn by running before they can walk.'

Even if he'd heard the Count's words, Jonathan wouldn't have had enough time to ponder them. The clawed digit began trusting in and out of him at a furious pace and Jonathan was lost under the onslaught. As soon as he managed to swallow a breath of oxygen it was forced right out of his lungs and he began feeling light headed. Without his realizing, his body relaxed to accommodate the new sensations only to have another finger join the first. His finger grasped feebly at the Count's arms but they didn't push away, rather they pulled closer. He didn't know when his ground teeth fell loose and noises of pleasure began rolling down his tongue. Things became a blur and all he could think about was how the pain seemed to have abruptly morphed into rapture, especially when the digits changed angle and hooked to scrape along the lining of his inner walls.

'How pretty your voice sounds when it is soaked in ecstasy... Sing for me Jonathan. Call to me louder.' And the human obliged. With each provocative sound Dracula felt his own self-restraint being stripped away until, with a feral growl he removed his hand, much to the other's disappointment, and pushed his length inside the clamping tunnel in one smooth go. Jonathan choked on his own voice, shocked to find himself filled by something so much bigger than two fingers. He didn't have time to dwell on it though as the thrusts began, pushing in and out of him like a battering ram intent of destroying him from the inside out. Dracula knew he'd prepared the human well enough to take him without fear of breaking him beyond repair.

He was far more powerful than a human and each time he pushed against the younger body, Jonathan felt like the whole castle was rocking in union with them. The back of his head continued to hit the window and then the hinges screeched and the panels flung open. Jonathan felt himself fall backwards, the wind tearing at his damp hair, and his heart stopped. He was going to fall to his death! But Dracula's superhuman hands had a firm hold of his hip and waist and they didn't let him fall, nor did he even hesitate in his attack on Jonathan's prostate. The Englishman could see the blue hued ground all those feet below him and the shadows of the wolves still stalking the castle premises. The fear was as acute as the blade of his razor but so was the indulgence crackling through his nervous system like the whipping of lightning. He heard the howls of the beasts and Dracula had been right, they did sound like music or maybe he was just going mad...

Dracula held him with only one hand while the other racked his chest, leaving angry red scratches as evidence for a later date. Strangely enough, Jonathan forgot to feel any fear, not even knowing only five fingers stood between him and certain death. Oh how far he'd fallen from his English gentleman self of a mare half an hour ago... The Count's fingers found his shoulder and he was pulled back to a sitting position, their lips meeting in a fervent embrace like long lost lovers. The midnight wind lashed at his exposed back but Jonathan paid it as much attention as he would a pesky fly. He felt the vampire's hand tangle in his hair and he didn't fight when his head was pulled back, all the while Dracula's hips rocking into Jonathan. The older creature's tongue ran over the pulsing veins in Jonathan's throat before his canines sunk into the welcoming flesh. The blood was sweeter than sugar and so fiery Dracula feared it would burn his tongue for a moment. He drank greedily, the precious liquid flowing down his throat while some escaped the corners of his lips and spilled down his chin to stain the human's upper chest.

Jonathan tore at the other's skin, though he wasn't nearly strong enough to so much as leave a single mark, but he wouldn't even have dreamed of pushing the devil away. His eyelids grew heavier at the quick loss of blood but he couldn't imagine anything more satiating. He was being filled and emptied at the same time and it drove him over the edge with shocking force. His legs held Dracula inside him for a moment until he felt the last of his strength ebb away and they fell loose by the vampire's sides, just like the rest of his body. He felt himself go lifeless and he wondered if this would be the end...If he was going to die in Transylvania, the home of the devil himself...

But just as he was certain Dracula would steal the last of his life's essence, the Count retreated. He could still feel his blood descending down his own body, the warmth almost searing to his cold body. He felt a pair of lips on his and tasted the iron of his own blood but he was too weak to open his eyes. He felt the softest change in the night air and heard the fain song of a cricket somewhere far, far away. He smelled the aroma of wild juniper and even thought he understood the howling music of the wolves for a second but exhaustion draped over him like a blanket and he simply couldn't fight its sway.

The last things he remembered as a human, were a pair of ruby eyes looking over him with unparalleled hunger.

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**I hope you liked it and don't forget about that review (if u can)! XD **

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


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